


This is a Song for a Scribbled Out Name

by SilentFrenzy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Suicide, tommen is precious af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 04:40:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentFrenzy/pseuds/SilentFrenzy
Summary: Tommen Baratheon offers Sansa his remorse and friendship, and through her he finds himself.Falling - Florence & the Machine





	This is a Song for a Scribbled Out Name

Tommen hesitated in front of Lady Sansa’s chambers with his mouth set in an uncertain frown.

_**i’ve fallen out of favor** _

He guessed himself near the top of her list of people she did not want to see, but the will to provide her some small comfort, an apology on behalf of his older brother, led him to her door.

It would be a futile attempt, he was sure of it, but he at least had to try. Lady Sansa deserved the respect that was the effort of at least  _one_  person made on her behalf. He was still a boy, but he had matured enough to understand exactly how severely she was being treated at the mercy of his family.

The shock of seeing first-hand how her skin was cut open and bruised at his brother’s command had frozen Tommen to the center of his core. He was unable to move then, unable to look away from the humiliation and sadism inflicted onto pretty, pliant Lady Sansa. The same Sansa who he had always blushed at the sight of when she had first arrived to King’s Landing. His shy looks and reddened cheeks had faded into averted gazes and expressions of shame over time. He always knew how she was treated, and yet he did nothing. Not that he could do much, but he could try. No one ever  _tried_  for her.

_**and i’ve fallen from grace** _

His eyes fell and blurred out of focus as he watched the ground, sinking deeper into the darkness that had cloaked itself around him as if he were a maiden marrying the Stranger himself. He was drowning in the miseries that moved through the stone walls of King’s Landing, ghosts of the sorrows elicited from the innocents that had been down on their good fortunes enough to end up there. He couldn’t take it. It was a cursed place, a hell in itself. If he could hardly tolerate the sinister ambience of it, the relentless loneliness he often found himself spiraling further and further down into, then he could only  _imagine_ how Lady Sansa was faring, for she wasn’t a prince as he was. Quite the opposite, unfortunately. She was a prisoner, and her captors offered not a shred of mercy.

_**fallen out of trees** _

No, he would change that by offering _his_  mercy. He would put forth his greatest efforts to show her she wasn’t alone.

Should he ever get the chance, should Joffrey ever travel or fall, he would show her the humanity a king ought to have as Protector of the Realm.

Before he could lose his courage, he knocked on her door. He swallowed nervously and stared down at his feet as he shifted the small animal in his arms. He was often severely mocked for his love of animals, but he was sure Sansa would treasure such a companion, for there was no trust to be doubted when it came to a pet. Animals held no ulterior motives or knowledge of trickery.

Clearing his throat, he gently announced himself when she questioned him behind her door, a pang of grief on her behalf shooting through him at the clear sound of terror in her voice.

She opened the door slowly, her head tilted downwards as she stepped back along with her door to allow him entrance. She greeted him hesitantly and struggled to look at him respectfully as she spoke, her eyes flicking between his face and the floor. Tommen pressed his lips together in indecision as he glanced between her and the door. It would be improper to be alone together in such a way, but if Joffrey caught word of him visiting her chambers..

_**and i’ve fallen on my face** _

He swiftly stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He held his free hand up in a submissive motion when he had closed it a bit too hard, causing Sansa to stumble back a couple of steps. Her blue eyes were wide on him now, her shoulders rising and falling with her panicked breaths. He had always been kind to her, but he could practically read the thoughts behind her eyes that spelt out her worries that he had started to develop Joffrey’s taste for torment.

“No, no! It’s okay, lady Sansa. I only came to speak with you. Is that.. Is that alright?”

Watching her warily, Tommen chewed the inside of his cheek as Sansa’s chin jerked up slightly as she struggled to swallow. She pulled at her fingers before forcing them down and bowing her head respectfully.

“My Prince need not ask, for I only wish to please him.”

He frowned and itched to go to her, to comfort her with assuring words. He kept his feet planted. She was too afraid, and he did not want to intimidate her further. He remembered the kitten tucked under his arm with care and held it out in front of him. He extended his arms as he watched her eyes, moving his own to the squirming cat and back to her in communication.

Relief settled his worries a bit when he saw the faint way her eyes lit up for a small, hopeful moment before she studied his face, attempting to read his expression as she feared him making a jest at her expense. He still didn’t move or direct her to take him, she received enough direction as it was, and instead waited as she slowly came to him. She worried at her lip, glancing up at him several times before taking the kitten in her hands and holding him close to her chest and over her heart. 

Her soft hands had trembled when they had brushed against his own, dragging his shame down even lower.

_**out of windows too** _

“Tommen.” He cleared his throat, looking beside her as he clasped his arm behind his back and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. “Please. I’m.. not here to be your prince. I thought you may be lonely, and if you get nightmares as I do.. well he will surely protect you.” He wasn’t sure how to go about his apology properly.

What could he possibly say that would be the least bit adequate?

“You’re.. You’re giving him to me, your-” she cut off awkwardly and shifted in uncertainty. “Tommen? I am afraid I am not worthy of your gifts. I am the daughter of a traitor, and nothing I do will cleanse my traitor’s blood.”

His chest ached and he squeezed his arm, still unable to meet her eyes. His grandfather had always been so firm in his lessons regarding loyalty to one’s family. It was hard hear her speak such words that she had been trained to say if she hoped to avoid even harsher beatings than those of which she already received.

“You don’t have to say those things to me, Lady Sansa. As I said, I am not here as your prince. I’m here as.. your friend mayhaps. I’m lonely too.” Tommen was surprised and embarrassed at himself when he heard the break in his voice as he admitted his loneliness. He swallowed his emotion down quickly before clearing his throat again and forcing himself to look at her face, hoping to conjure an encouraging expression. “He is the most behaved of my kittens, and he doesn’t get into trouble like his sister. It would be wiser if he didn’t draw attention to himself, as I would not like him to be used against you.. or hurt like some of my other pets have. I know you had a pet before you came. Your wolf. He’s definitely not a wolf, but.. He is grey and white. Your house colors.” He closed his mouth to keep from going on, bouncing on the balls of his feet once more. He hoped she would trust him, or at least allow him the chance to earn her trust. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. He didn’t think he would be able to trust him if he were in her place. Should he really have reminded her of her dead wolf, especially seeing as the creature’s blood remained on his own mother’s hands? Probably not, no.

He remembered he had cried when he had learned of Lady.

“My house col.. He’s  _your_ kitten? I - I couldn’t possibly.. I would feel awful. I’m sure you love him very much.” Sansa was holding the kitten close to her neck before she stepped closer to him, carefully prying the small animal off of her to offer him back.

_**fell in your opinion** _

Watching her with a sincere expression, Tommen stepped away while holding his hands up in decline. He was struck by her words regarding his feelings. Why did she care if he loved the kitten? She didn’t owe him any thought. She shouldn’t be considerate of his feelings, not after everything. “I want  _you_  to have him,” he insisted before smiling with encouragement. “He will remind you to be strong, as you have to take care of him now. He needs you, just as you him.”

_**when i** _

Sansa stared at him with her alarmingly blue eyes, big and full of caution. She slowly brought the kitten back up to the crook of her neck where he eagerly resettled himself and Sansa slightly angled her head so the kitten was tucked under her chin. “Thank you, Tommen..” Her words were soft, and he could tell she meant them, though there was still doubt in her voice. She watched him with a wariness that he could read well, as he had felt the same towards his cruel brother when he feared Joffrey would snatch whatever kindness he chose to offer away as he always did in his cruel way of teasing. Despite his wariness, Tommen had still foolishly fell for his brother’s tricks every time for far too long. He would never do that to anyone, especially not Sansa. She was too good and too pretty.

Too innocent.

“I’m so..” He started, flushing with embarrassment when his voice wavered and dropped into thickness as emotion captured it. “I’m so sorry, Sansa. I know.. I know you must hate me after all my family has done to you. I would hate me too. I would.. never be able to handle what you have.. never be able to stand tall and face them day after day. Joffrey torments me, but.. I just am sorry, and I want you to know that I would never hurt you. I can’t.. help you in the way that I would like. I’m helpless to be of any aid, but.. I thought..” Tommen cut off, inhaling slowly as he became more frustrated with himself. He was a man, and Sansa was a lady who deserved his apologies. He should be able to speak to her with sureness so she knew him sincere. She deserved that. “It is my duty to protect you as prince. I’ve failed you, and I offer you my most honest apologies.”

“I know you aren’t like them,” she told him, a vulnerable sound of mourning laced into her tone. Sansa was allowing him a glimpse at her deeper emotions, deeper than only the emotions of fear and forced obedience that she usually showed. “Please don’t apologize. I - I want to be your friend too. I’d like that. I need a friend.”

_**fell in love** _

Tommen inhaled sharply, relief and happiness spreading through him like a hot drink on a chilly night. He closed his eyes for a moment, nodding as a smile spread over his face. “Good. Thank you. Mayhaps one day you will fully trust me. I do not expect you to now, but I am determined to earn it.”

Without receiving a reply, Tommen let out his breath in a satisfied huff, looking around her chambers while clasping his hands together. He bit at his lower lip, determined to not fall into an awkward silence. He began to turn and ask what sort of books she liked after spotting a few on her desk, but his words were cut off in a surprised choke of a noise when he found himself in Sansa’s embrace, his gift to her pressed between them. He frowned in reverency and understanding, clutching her to him in return. He felt his emotion draw up his throat again, realizing just how lonely he had truly been. It was so sweet to finally have a friend.

Tommen quickly learned just how intelligent Sansa was as he continued to visit her, funny as well. His mother often claimed her head to be empty, but then again his mother rarely had anything kind to say about most other women. His friend enjoyed many of the same things that he did it, and Tommen was elated with how easy it was to get on with her. He did not think himself very creative to come up with a new activity had they not shared any common interests, so he was relieved they were so alike. After all, they  _were_  limited in their freedom. She was not hard to entertain, and he found his self-esteem improve each time she was in his company. She didn’t pretend to be amused with him, didn’t pretend to laugh at his poor attempts at humor, didn’t call him girlish for enjoying stories and histories or music. He didn’t have to pretend to be a bigger man than he was, a man at all on that matter. They were both only children, children forced into adulthood years before they were ready.

They were children, but the best thing about Sansa was that she didn’t treat him as a child the way everyone else did.

_**with you** _

Sansa was a bit older than him, but still she treated him as though he were her equal. He wasn’t forced to brush off any formal, meaningless courtesies that everyone was demanded to offer him as prince, nor was he spoken down to and patronized by her as if he were an incompetent toddler. He had always been the  _baby_  of the family, despite how he was aging. Admittedly, he didn’t exactly work on portraying himself otherwise. Never confident enough to stand against his mother’s view of him, he remained quiet and small in the background. Not that he wanted attention, but he’d rather not be treated as an idiot. His wolf friend was feeding him the respect he had always craved for his confidence to grow. Mayhaps he would be able to stand a bit prouder as he further grasped at his  _own_  control over his identity. He could only hope he was encouraging her at taking steps towards her former self. Actually, he could  _see_  that he was. Every time he came to visit her he found her eyes a bit brighter, her teasing a bit more liberal. Still a perfect lady, somehow Sansa kept her poise and grace while still being carefree and lighthearted at the same time. At first she had been quite hesitant around him, covering her breathy laughter with her hand and occasionally flinching when he moved too quickly, but it did not take too long for that to pass. He had feared that her spirit had been broken into far too many pieces, making her unable to relax completely around him and truly treat him as her friend. Evidently he had underestimated the strength of her light. She was far too strong to have it stomped out, far stronger than himself.

“I think you would make a wonderful king, Tommen.” Her eyes had met his own, the endless blues of them strangling his attentions and holding them at their mercy. She was not habitually responding to his offhanded comment about how everyone would snort and giggle in secret if  _he_  had been the one crowned king rather than Joffrey simply out of expected politeness. No, she was looking at him with pressing sincerity, a small amount of fierceness in her gaze almost as if she were angry with him for saying what he did. “You’re better than Joffrey in every way imaginable. You’re much smarter, far more clever. You’re  _fair_.. You’re merciful. A king should be merciful.”

“I am not strong.” His eyes avoided hers as he protested, though his chin had slightly tilted up. “A king should be strong. Firm. He should be able to make difficult decisions and stand up to his enemies.”

_**sometimes i wish for falling** _

“You are strong! Far stronger than  _Joffrey_.” She growled the negative remarks toward Joffrey in a lower tone, careful of possible listening ears near her chambers. “ _His grace_  cowers at his own shadow, but of course only after giving it his empty threats as he always does to create the illusion of strength. He trembles before anyone with the smallest amount of power, which is everyone but me and other women who are helpless and scared.. and you. But you aren’t helpless, only scared. You don’t have to be scared. You have power. You’re the  _prince_. You’ve seen Joffrey, he screams that he’s the king but he rarely has the power to do what he likes! You don’t have to shrink back from him. Don’t let him hurt you anymore, Tommen. You aren’t one of his playthings.. Leave that role to me. Stop allowing them to make you feel little. Outside of those in my family, you’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

_**wish for the release** _

Stunned at her words, Tommen simply stared at her. An odd shiver of adrenaline went through him, and he was a bit embarrassed at the way his body made a show of it. He tilted his head slightly, going over and considering her words, her  _praises_. Her encouragement was sincere, he had known that much. He could easily tell when she was lying by that point, could tell when her words of admiration were false when said in that monotone voice she used when falling into her mask of the submissive prisoner. Her voice had not been hollow and her eyes had been filled with honesty. She thought so highly of him, she had called him a  _man_. It meant a great deal to him, but he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

“You’re not his plaything Sansa. That’s only what he thinks you are. You’re stronger than you think as well. Joffrey throws a tantrum at the smallest things.. where you act as though you’ve received not even a  _scratch_  from your time here. You’re a wolf and always will be, no matter how much they try to skin you. Though, I  _will_  say I see just a  _bit_  of lion in that smirk of yours.” He grinned at the way she had given him a squinting look at his claim, but she did have quite the proud smirk whenever she would beat him at a game or prove him wrong in facts of history or literature. “You would have made a better princess than Margaery.”

_**wish for falling through the air** _

She gave him a challenging look of amusement. “Thank you for your sweet words, my most gallant knight, but I do know you’re exaggerating. We both know Margaery will make a flawless queen. Besides, I could  _never_  ruin any of my dresses how I heard she did.”

Tommen laughed at her overacted horror on the topic of ruined gowns before pursing his lips and shrugging. “I’m biased towards my best friend. I can’t help it.”

She shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. He couldn’t hold back his boyish blush when she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

_**to give me some relief** _

“I see you have one of  _my_  knights guarding the Stark girl’s chambers,” his grandfather drawled to him in passing one day. “I was informed it was you who made the order.”

Indeed, he had. He couldn’t trust the shameless  _knights_ who had beaten his friend to tears one too many times. Tommen had no idea how they managed, as she had wept to him only days before, and Seven Hells. He was sure her tears could break even the strongest of men.

_**because falling is not the problem** _

“I did.” He tipped his chin up slightly as he clasped his arm behind his back, forcing himself to be sure in his words, steady. “She is a lady from a very, very old house who thousands are fiercely loyal to. She is valuable, too valuable to be treated as though she is Joffrey’s toy. Surely my brother ought to know that as  _king_ , but I suppose it has slipped his mind, busy as he has been protecting the realm and whatnot.”

He inwardly winced at his boldness. Had he forgotten he was talking to Tywin Lannister?

“I agree.”

Tommen blinked back his shock before quickly bowing his head in respect. “I thought you would. I always try to take what I can from paying attention to you, grandfather.”

_**when i’m falling i’m in peace** _

“Careful, Tommen. You’re beginning to sound as though you’ve finally stopped nursing from your mother’s breast.”

There were two Lannister knights guarding Sansa’s chambers the next evening he had gone to see her.

Much too quickly after Sansa was freed from the engagement to his brother, she had been engaged to his uncle.

He was heartbroken for his friend when he had learned of the betrothal. He was so old, so _different_ from his Sansa. She was a lady, modest and proper, where Tyrion was infamous for his reputation with whores. The bedding.. Nausea swept over him at the thought as well as an odd pang of jealousy and possessiveness, catching him a bit off guard.

_**it’s only when i hit the ground** _

Well of course, he supposed. Spending enough time in a woman’s company would lead to at least a  _little_  affection. She was still his best friend, and he would never want to disrespect her by looking at her in a way she didn’t deserve, but she was developing as a young woman. She had always been a stunningly pretty girl, but as of recent.. Gods she was beautiful. Such a face was unfair to the rest of the women in the world. Tommen couldn’t help but think on how he would have made a much better husband, but he knew his grandfather’s intent was to tie a Stark to the Lannisters.

Tommen was called a Baratheon.

Yes, he was  _called_  a Baratheon. However, as of late his doubts only grew, just as the rumours did. He tried to avoid exploring the speculation regarding his parentage, but it still stuck in the back of his mind, disturbing him more and more. He was at the point where he leaned towards what the people thought rather than the claims of his family, gods knew they weren’t above lying no matter the severity of the cost should they be discovered in their many treacheries.

He was naive, yes, but he was neither deaf nor blind.

_**it causes all the grief** _

Too soon, the wedding came along. Tommen tried his best to keep his emotions under control for his friend’s sake. He was fearful for her, but he cared about her happiness more so than his own. He knew if he portrayed his worries it would only cause Sansa’s to triple. The two of them fed into one another, and he had to feed her composure, no matter how false it may be, just as he would gladly take on her distress in exchange.

Of course she looked lovely, breathtaking as ever, but he disliked the amount of Lannister colors on her, especially seeing that it was much more common for the bride to wear colors of her own house, but he was less than shocked that there was very little influence of her house in her attire. Of course she would have never been awarded the smallest freedom of wearing Stark colors on her wedding day, a wedding she had no say in to a man horrendously older than her, horrendously unsuited for her. The sept may just very well collapse if the  _wolf bitch_  were permitted to wear her _traitor Stark colors_  despite the fact that they were breeding her  _traitor blood_  into the all superior line of House Lannister.

Tensed, his vision unfocused and refocused when he watched on as his vile brother whispered in Sansa’s ear.

Why had the Gods forced upon him an evil bastard to call a brother?

_**this is a song** _

Unfortunately, Sansa becoming a Lannister did not end Joffrey’s lust for her torment, and not long after the wedding Tommen found himself frozen stiff and watching on as his brother ordered Sansa’s skin to be marred, cut open by a sword.

“Nothing too deep,” the King leered. “Just deep enough to scar. I want her  _honored_  with the King’s art displayed on her body.”

It was as though water had filled his ears as all sounds around him were drowned out, replaced only with a horrid ringing sound. He couldn’t.. Tyrion.. Where was Tyrion? Where was his useless uncle? Where was Sansa’s bloody  _husband_?

_**for a scribbled out name** _

Tommen’s eyes focused on the blade being drawn, the ringing only growing louder. He was near certain that his heart would inflict bruising inside his chest with the way it was pounding against it.

 _No_.

“Stop.”

It wasn’t frantic, his command, it wasn’t a panicked cry. No, it was a strong  _order_. An order the knight followed, looking to him and then to Joffrey whose head snapped in Tommen’s direction in such a violent jerk one may have feared his neck to snap in two.

“What did you say, baby brother? Did you have something to add? More to her punishment, mayhaps? As surely there would be nothing else worth intercepting your  _King’s_  orders.”

 _“You have power. You’re the_ prince _.”_

“I won’t allow her to be mutilated,  _your grace_. It is not appropriate to abuse our uncle’s wife in such a way, nor is it appropriate to heinously scar a woman from a noble house that is over  _eight thousand years old_  and has  _thousands of loyal followers_  who I strongly doubt would care to see their lady shredded as you would have her simply for your own entertainment. Many, many more loyal followers, I must point out, than the crown has at this point in time,  _your grace_. Surely you know that, and I only need remind you because you have been much too busy protecting the realm that such things have slipped your mind.”

There was a remarkable silence then, everything and everyone frozen in time, before Joffrey’s face began to screw up and redden after he processed his words. At his reaction, Tommen quickly and firmly ordered the two Lannister guards to escort Sansa out of the court’s witness and away from the king and his knights.

_**that my love keeps writing** _

It was almost humorous the way Joffrey gaped after her as she was taken safely away by his grandfather’s knights after she had given her soft and formal words of thanks. He almost looked like a fish with the way he gaped, a red and fuming fish. Tommen might have laughed if he hadn’t been struck breathless with his shock towards the words that had slipped from his own lips, might have laughed had he not been paling with the illness that slowly crept upon him in apprehension of the consequences that his outburst would bring both him and Sansa, especially Sansa.

“You can’t-”

“He did.”

Tommen’s eyes had slid to Tywin before his head had as his grandfather promptly silenced Joffrey’s seething fit before it had started.

“I am quite sure he just displayed more power than you have during your ruling in its entirety, and as  _king_ , as you so fondly proclaim yourself often, you did nothing to stop it.” Tywin held up his hand at Joffrey’s spluttering as he desperately tried to push out whatever furious nonsense of a retort he had come up with. “The prince is correct, and I’d advise you to be grateful for his counsel. We’ve enough tension with the North as is. The crown can do without whatever further issues you may have caused should the prince not have educated you in  _simple_  politics.”

_**again and again** _

The slight dip of his grandfather’s head after locking eyes with Tommen in an approving nod melted every foreboding feeling in his body away, replacing them all with a fierce, triumphant pride.

He had won.

Mayhaps a small victory, but he had won all the same. No, not small at all. He had saved Sansa, and that was worth more than every victory in the world.

“I would say I can’t believe it, but it would make me a liar. I’ve always believed you could,” Sansa had told him sweetly when he had seen her again after the scene with Joffrey. She took his face between her warm hands to kiss both of his cheeks. “Thank you, Tommen. You didn’t have to. I know he will seek revenge. I don’t want you to get hurt for my sake.”

When she placed a final soft kiss to his forehead his eyes fell to the floor, feeling almost as if he was unworthy to look at her, unworthy of her praise and her soft lips upon his skin.

_**this is a song** _

“I don’t care about that,” he said dismissively after being still for several moments to regain composure after her dizzying gestures of affection. He took her hands from his face, holding them between his own as he searched her eyes with concern. “You can’t expect me to just sit and  _watch_  as you’re permanently disfigured in front of the court, Sansa! Are you alright? Aren’t you shaken? Has anyone attempted to confront you about this?”

His friend gave him a small, sad smile before averting her eyes and pulling her hands away to clasp them together in front of her. “I’m already disfigured, Tommen. He’s already made me ugly with scars. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. I’m.. married.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, no! I’m sorry. Believe me, you’re-” He cut off for a moment as he lost his wording, almost as if he was realizing all over again just how striking her beauty was. He sighed, feeling a fool for nearly implying her homely. He drew her into a tight hug before giving her a kiss of his own, pressing his lips to the side of her head against the hair just above her ear. Once his lips were upon her he unfortunately found himself not wanting to remove them, his reluctance to do so only growing as he breathed in the sweet scent of her. He forced himself to pull away after resting his cheek against the spot for a moment, meeting her eyes in order to prove his words genuine before speaking them.

_**for a scribbled out name** _

“You’re  _stunning_ , Sansa. No scar will ever change that. Half of your face could be sliced off, you could lose an eye, and you’d still be the most gorgeous girl in the Seven Kingdoms.”

She gave him scolding scowl, but nonetheless a blush lightly colored her pale cheeks while her lips fought at a smile. “Don’t try to flatter me with nonsense, Tommen. You exaggerate too much for me to believe you.”

“Really? I believe what I said was an understatement. I could go on, you see, with how you’re the most exquisite, incomparable, enchanting,  _bewitching_ -”

She shushed him loudly and attempted to give him a warning look before her laughter ruined any bit of threatening she had tried to communicate through her face, interrupting his theatrical show of showering her with adulation.

“Stop it, Tommen. It’s enough now,” she told him firmly, shaking her head with amusement still playing on her features.

“I simply cannot help myself, my lady,” he said in a low, dramatic voice as he inclined his head towards her respectfully. “For it is my duty-”

“-to shut up and come over to finish our game.” Sansa rolled her eyes and walked over to sit against the many pillows on the ground. “You’re distracting me to avoid it because you know I will beat you. Just as I always do.”

Tommen gasped and feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest. “Lady Sansa, you would imply me a coward?”

“Hmm.. would I do that? Can’t  _imagine_  how I could  _ever_  do such a thing to my  _brave_  and  _gallant_  prince.”

“I can’t either.” He shook his head, looking upwards as though he were searching for the answer himself before smirking at her, quirking a mocking eyebrow. “Especially seeing as you were just blushing at me like a lovestruck maiden.”

_**that my love keeps writing** _

Sansa gave him a dull look, raising an eyebrow back. “And how many times have I made  _you_  blush, Tommen?”

Ah, fair enough.

Joffrey was as unbearable as Tommen had expected him to be at his wedding, and it seemed he had been among the only few who had not underestimated just how obnoxiously abhorrent his brother would be. Of course Joffrey would be especially detestable on his wedding day. He would not miss the opportunity to perform in front of such a large audience.

Even Queen Margaery was unable to hide her disgust whenever her new husband wasn’t looking, whenever she  _felt_ as though no one was looking, but Tommen had caught her authentic feelings. She had fooled many into believing she truly saw nothing horrid in Joffrey and held no contempt for the king. Tommen could see through it, but she had been more convincing than Sansa, and he could at least credit her for those of whom she  _had_  fooled. He pitied her, but he still thanked the Seven for the fact she had taken Sansa’s place and would suffer Joffrey’s sadistic games instead.

_**again and again** _

The corner of Tommen’s mouth lifted ever so slightly in accepted disdain when Sansa displayed the smallest amount of defiance as she helped Tyrion retrieve the cup Joffrey had  _hilariously_  dropped intentionally. Her face was blank, but there was a cool edge to it that hadn’t been there previously, an edge of strength as the wolf in her began to show itself in glimpses.

Ah, his frozen ice princess, growing more fearless than both him and her former betrothed every day. To outdo a lion’s courage in his own den.. Well, he supposed he should feel ashamed.

He didn’t.

_**i’ll dance myself up** _

Though still nervous for her, he felt only admiration for his dearest friend, proud she was his own.

Tommen knew in the exact moment Joffrey began choking that everything was to fall to pieces. He knew not how or in how many ways, but he felt it. He felt the sense of a beginning to a spiral. Whether the spiral was to be his own or another’s, mayhaps the entire kingdom’s, he knew not. He knew only that it had started, and that the world around him began to spin in it.

He soon found himself staring passed his mother, stoic and expressionless as she demanded his knowledge of Sansa, assuming he knew where she had went and who had helped her.

_**drunk myself down** _

“Don’t think I don’t know of your little playdates with the murderous little whore. I know, and I have known, and I also know that you’re a fool for trusting the traitorous bitch. Did you not think she was only playing with you to have an advantage? A chance at plotting your brother’s murder? My son.. My  _son_  that she has stolen from me, and  _you_ helped her, you  _stupid_  little boy.” She paused her rant to look upon him with a slight shake of her head, appearing as if she didn’t know exactly who he was, her expression full of disgust and betrayal before she resumed her hissed and insulting words. “You  _protected_  her. You protected your brother’s  _murderer_.”

He met her eyes with his blank ones, unsure of how to handle his emotions towards her words, the loathing in her face. It was then he was confident his mother would have traded Joffrey’s death for his own for any price in the world, and gladly would she have paid that price.

The greens in her eyes were glassy with tears, reflective. Fury seized the emotion in her face and she grabbed the tops of his arms, jerking him close to her face as she dug her nails into his flesh through the fabric of the clothing that covered it.

“You will tell me where she is,” she spat viciously, her eyes flashing and rattling as they searched his with madness. “You will tell me where she has gone  _now_ , or I-”

“You’ll lock me in a cell like my uncle?” His words were soft, and he was shocked his voice did not crack, for surely he should be crying by then. “You’ll accuse me without proof as well? Demand my head? Will you have Sansa look upon mine as well?”

His mother stared at him in disbelief. Her shoulders had gone stiff and she didn’t move or respond for several moments. He cut her off when he saw her mouth open to finally offer him a retort.

“I don’t know where she is, mother. That I swear by the Seven.” He pried himself from her grasp, her  _claws_ , as he stepped away to turn and leave her to have her fit alone. He looked at her once more before walking away, attempting to find the love for him in her face that he had known since he was old enough to know anything at all.

“But I pray with everything I have that wherever she has gone she is as far away from you as she possibly could be, for Sansa is worth a  _thousand_  Lannister,  _bastard_  kings.”

_**found people to love** _

It was cold, cold without her. Odd seeing as she was the closest thing to ice in his life. Then again,  _winter was coming_ , was it not?

Sansa was gone, and he now held the weight of the Seven Kingdoms on his shoulders without her, his lion’s courage.

His mother still fiercely believed it was Tyrion and his wife who had killed Joffrey and had an absurd amount of money as reward for Sansa’s capture. Cersei had barely spoken to him since he had made it clear to her in a notably offensive manner that he was both aware of and confident in the rumors of his true parentage, but for that he was glad. He had no desire to speak to his mother, as he believed her incredibly foolish to believe soft spoken, obedient Sansa Stark would murder the king as though she was the Kingslayer, as though she was his  _father_. She had every right to kill his brother, and if she had Tommen would have given her his pardon, but he had never been more sure of anything than he was of his best friend’s inability to plot a young man’s murder. Not his wolf, not when he had felt how gentle her touch was. His chest ached as he reconfirmed her absence again and again in his mind, the ache worsening the more his reality sunk in.

_**left people to drown** _

Yet another good thing forced from his life at the blood stained hands of his mother.

He would have protected her. He  _would have_. He didn’t care how impossible it may seem with Cersei’s unmatchable appetite for revenge. Somehow he would have found a way to keep her from blame, would have been the type of ruler she had first expected his brother to be. Tommen was king, and where Joffrey had failed to wield such a power he would succeed. He  _would_  have, at least, but Sansa was gone.

And with her absence his spiral began.

_**i’m not scared to jump** _

As each day he was called king dragged by he felt more and more abandoned. Not by his friend, no, he knew for certain she would have never abandoned him. She had been forced to flee from his mother’s false accusations. No, his desire to be more was abandoning him, his desire to be better.

Margaery was sweet and utterly beautifully, he couldn’t deny his natural desires for her in his developments into a young man, but she was not his friend. Despite her kindness, and he was sure she was kind despite her ambitions and inauthentic charm, she was not, would never be, lady Sansa.

Margaery did not see him as her equal.

People assumed him stupid, he was becoming all too aware of that once more, but he was not unaware of the fact that Margaery sought to manipulate everyone around her. She attempted to manipulate him as well, and she succeeded in several ways even with him recognizing her intent. His bride was a talented one. She was also an aid to his ruin, his return to that small, meek version of himself that he had worked very hard to discard. She thought of him as a child, spoke to him as a child, looked at him as a child, and he was quite sure she spoke of him as a child to those closest to her. Everyone did, but he felt himself doomed to such an impression forever when he realized that his female companion for life, his  _wife_ , would always see him as a little boy despite the fact of who he was meant to be to her, how he was meant to be seen by her.

It was such a stark difference from his former female companion, and the lack of Sansa’s traits _screamed_  at him.

Those screams were especially loud when he began speaking on the matters regarding the small folk and the commotions that more and more had been beginning to cause only to be cut off and spoken over by Margaery who immediately silenced her king with her own thoughts in that sugary, honey coated tone, patronizing and convincing. He doubted it was an intentional slight, and he wasn’t angry with her, just as he couldn’t  _blame_  her. He had simply frowned, looked towards the ground across the hall, and allowed her to speak. He may not have felt the fury Joffrey would have, or any king really, but he certainly hadn’t felt anything positive.

_**i’m not scared to fall** _

He shouldn’t have allowed such a small moment to affect him so, but he was weak and his hold on his confidence was fragile. So easily he found himself shrinking back into the cub he was apparently destined to always be.

_“Treat him as a boy and he will act a boy, foolish woman.”_

Tywin’s previous words to his mother ran through his mind as he fell back into his pliant role, quietly mourning the fleeting moments of respect he had experienced his grandfather gift him. He would not earn it again, that he was sure. His grandfather had warned him of such a fate that day he had trained so impressively with Sansa a part of the audience, Sansa being who he had looked towards when he had finished so successfully. Tywin had warned him, and he had been correct, not that Tommen had expected less of him. Tywin Lannister was always correct.

_“Careful as you tread these waters, Tommen. For what is your greatest strength is as well your greatest weakness.”_

Despite his various losses and new overwhelming responsibility, Tommen still did his best to make the most of it. He let Margaery entrance him, allowed her to take lead in his life. He wanted to love her, needed to love her if he wished to find any sort of contentment. It hadn’t been hard. Queen Margaery was a near perfect wife, impressive and lovely.  _Everyone_  loved her, of course he would be no exception. Perhaps he could make it up to Sansa through Margaery, seeing as he had no way to do so through Sansa herself any longer. He missed her more than anything, and she would always be his dearest and most sincere friend, his true princess, but he had to allow himself to accept his queen.

_**if there was no where to land** _

Yet still,  _still_  he had failed

He had attempted to muster what determination he had felt when confronted with Sansa’s safety when Margaery had been arrested by the Faith, when  _Margaery’s_  safety had been compromised. He tried, he did.

Tried, but still failed all the same. He had failed everyone, starting with Sansa.

_**i wouldn’t be scared** _

_“The king is supposed to be the protector of the realm. If I can’t even protect my own wife or my own mother, what good am I?”_

Nothing good, nothing good at all, certainly not a good king.

_“I think you would make a wonderful king, Tommen.”_

You were wrong, Sansa. Along with everyone else, I let you down. I didn’t mean to.

I’m sorry.

_**at all** _

Taking off his crown was the easiest thing Tommen had done since Joffrey’s death. Immediately he felt numb, relieved. He knew he was in shock, for he was unfeeling and there were no tears in his eyes. There ought to be tears, after everything, they deserved his tears. Just another thing he couldn’t give them, just another failure.

Everything he had left, everything he had tried so desperately to hang onto in every which way he could manage, his mother had taken from him too. What had he done to her to make her hate him so? All he had wanted was to be worth something to someone.

_**sometimes i wish for falling** _

He was worth  _something_ , he knew he was worth something to his mother. She saw him as her sweet, baby boy who would always dote on her and listen to her words, cry for her and grind himself down in an attempt to make her happy. Nothing made her happy, he had finally realized that, nothing but power. She had power over him, he was her  _property_ , and as that he meant something to her. He didn’t mean enough to her to not take every  _something_  of meaning in his own life away from him. Of course he didn’t. What was important to him only got in the way of his cares for what was important to her, and Cersei Lannister only liked her property to focus on her and her alone. She had kept him away from the Sept of Baelor so he wouldn’t die along with his wife as he was meant to. She had rid herself of several of her enemies as well as mended her faulty property back to the way that pleased her.

Two birds with one stone.

But he wouldn’t let her win. Not this time, no. He would take this victory from her, would take it with the slightest amount of peace that he had performed at least one small act of justice when it came to his queen, his people, his best friend. He would take it with the peace that would come with being free of her, being more than just her property.

This time, as his mother had taken so much from so many, he would finally take something from her.

_**wish for the release** _

He was still numb as he walked towards the window, calm as he lifted himself onto the ledge. It was a cowardly act, and Tommen was perfect at being a coward, wasn’t he? At least he knew he wouldn’t fail at something he was good at.

He didn’t jump, didn’t pause, didn’t look.

He closed his eyes and let himself fall forward.

As he fell, he thought of Sansa. He thought not of his shallow love for Margaery. He  _had_  loved her, but not as he did sansa. His best friend, the only one who had ever believed in him.

He felt safe falling into the dream of her, and he dearly hoped she would not hurt at the news of his departure. She never deserved even a moment of sadness

_**to give me some relief** _

His mind went back to that night where Sansa had won their game for around the fifth time in a row. The smirk on her face was just as Lannister worthy as ever, worthy enough to rival his uncle Jaime’s. He only laughed at her, shaking his head while he leaned back on his hands that held his weight behind him, content watching his friend with her growing cat curled in her lap. Felines certainly seemed to adore the wolf’s company, didn’t they? They had must in some way or another, seeing as she had been imprisoned in a lion’s den.

It was a wonder why so many only saw her as priceless goods to offer up to the highest bidder. She was so much more, so much more than an object to trade or a piece in the game, the  _stupid_  game that ruined everything good and pure and  _innocent_.

He was glad Sansa wasn’t there, wasn’t there to be ashamed of him. She would be too sweet to reveal her disappointment in him, but he knew it would be there, how could it not?

_“How can you be so unlike him..?”_

The look of bewilderment on her face had come from nowhere to interrupt her careless laughter as she looked at him with such honest curiousness. She had taken his hand and covered it with hers to run her thumb over his fingers.

_**because falling is not the problem** _

_“Your hands are clean, no stains of blood to be found. There are very few left with hands as clean as yours.”_

So, so wrong, my sweet Sansa.

Her smile had been brilliant when she looked up to flash it to him before telling him that he truly was like the charming princes in the songs, the stories she used to believe in. She had brought his fingers to her lips and kissed them before thanking him, thanking him for restoring a small amount of her faith in her fantasies and her belief that there still had to be some good to find in the world.

_**when i’m falling i’m in peace** _

At least his luck had not failed him to place Sansa as witness to what proved her words false, to kill what faith he had restored. More peace was provided to him knowing that the person that mattered most did not see the child that, for her, he had acted he wasn’t.

He wanted her memory of him to remain fond. He wished for her to still believe him the best king that could ever grace the Seven Kingdoms, to believe him the strong prince she had always told him he was.

_**it’s only when i hit the ground** _

He hoped wherever she was she was safe, and he hoped, most likely in vain, that she still thought of him as her best friend.

He hoped she would one day realize how she made her house proud, just as she had made him proud.

He hoped she would one day look upon herself and feel proud, just as she had once made him look upon himself and feel proud.

Just once, only once, but it was once enough for Tommen to bury himself into the sweet memory of that once and finish his fall peacefully.

_**it causes all the grief** _


End file.
